


Red

by lazarus_girl



Series: Saudade Series [1]
Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_girl/pseuds/lazarus_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"The symmetry of it all is painful."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [15genres1prompt](http://15genres1prompt.livejournal.com). Genre: Angst. Prompt: Lost.
> 
> Set somewhere between 4x04 “Katie” and 4x07 "Effy." Inspired by the Elbow song, ['Red'](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHMJARPLmcg).

She drifts in and out of sleep, curled up on the living room floor in an old t-shirt, surrounded by crushed beer cans, countless cigarette butts stubbed out in mugs, empty wine bottles, and old takeaway boxes. Something makes her wake, and she’s confused for a moment, the fog of sleep thickened by shitty, cheap vodka and smoking too much weed. It’s her medicine. The perfect mix to make her numb to everything, so she dangles above the world instead of being trapped on the ground. She doesn’t know what time it is, but it feels late – or early depending on your perspective – and Emily still hasn’t come home. It’s not unusual for her to come in late, not anymore. They live in extremes now.

Most of the time, she’s drunk or high, having taken refuge in both, going through day on autopilot, barely awake at college. Emily’s not much better, rolling in at some ungodly hour, completely wasted and tripping over everything. They fall asleep where they drop, on the floor, the sofa or huddled against the front door, rarely in her bed. She’s lost count of the times she’s sat in silence, huddled, listening for the slightest sound. Terrified of the house falling into silence, she invites more and more people to stay. First Emily’s family, then Cook and Pandora. Now, there’s not really enough space for them to breathe, let alone live.

They argue daily, screaming at each other to the point of hoarseness – her throat still hurts from yesterday’s round – and Emily will turn round and go straight back out again, deaf to it. Lately, it’s been escalating, and they end up in physical fights, because Emily goads her, knowing exactly what buttons to push, not just to get her temper to flare, but it get it to burn brightly. They slap and scratch, never punch – that’s the one thing they’ll never _ever_ do, no matter how far they push each other – wanting the pain they feel on the inside to make the outside. There would never be enough blood for that. Nothing would cut deep enough. The end is always the same. One minute they’re pinning each other to the wall pulling at each other’s hair, and the next, they’re kissing roughly, grabbing at each other’s clothes, popping off buttons, tearing things, carelessly in the rush to get at each other; scratching, biting, sucking, anything to leave a mark. That sounds like passion, but it’s not, it’s revenge. Emily takes control, and nothing about it is the sweet, kind, careful girl she knows – she loves – and it always shocks her, when Emily’s fingers thrust inside her without thought, hard and fast. She’s not sure which side of the pleasure and pain line those nights are, it blurs so easily. It’s a dangerous pattern, one she’s become so used to, and she’s beginning to forget anything else. Worse still, she’s begun to crave it, push Emily toward it sometimes, to make it happen, because it’s the only time they touch each other. The only thing that’s real.

Every so often, Emily will test her by bringing another girl back to the flat. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, except they’re never blondes. It’s like she purposefully searches for her opposite out of spite and flaunts them in front of her as proof. Emily can be surprisingly manipulative when she chooses, and it’s made her see similarities between her and Katie that she never had before. Even though the idea of Emily with someone else makes her flesh crawl, and leaves her seething with anger she has no right to feel, she never says anything about it, she’s not allowed. Not one single word. Not since Sophia. Not since everything changed. She can’t stop herself from listening for a different reason entirely, ears tuned to the rhythm of the bed shifting, headboard banging against the wall at the height of it, when some other girl is moaning Emily’s name. A reminder of what she’s lost. That’s when she suffers the most, when her pain feels like something solid she can hold in her hands, heavy as a brick.

***

She's woken again sometime later, startled by the sound of her phone ringing, ear-splittingly loud, cutting through the darkness. Scrambling to her feet, she kicks the three-quarters empty vodka bottle, and it rolls away, clinking dully against furniture across the room. She fumbles in the dark, just wanting the noise gone. On the sixth ring, the sound feels like it’s pulsing through her veins, and she can’t stand to hear it for a second longer. She wants peace and quiet, to curl back up and sleep. Preferably a sleep she never wakes up from. After tossing the cushions off the sofa, and just about to upturn the coffee table, she sees something glowing, and pulls her jeans out from under Pandora’s empty sleeping bag, finding her phone in the back pocket, feet from where she was lying. It takes her a few seconds to focus, thumb hovering ready to reject the call, until she realises who it is and almost drops her phone in surprise, fumbling to answer it before they hang up.

“Katie?” she says, barely above a whisper, her throat raw.

She waits for the snappy retort. There isn’t one.

 _“You have to come. Now! It’s Emily, she’s in hospital.”_ Katie says, hurriedly, tripping over herself to get her words out, breathing heavily.

She stumbles back against the armchair, reeling. This can’t be happening.

“What?!”

Katie starts to sob, and the line crackles, as she passes the phone from one hand to another. _“She took a fucking overdose!”_

Her brain lags, unable to comprehend it. She swallows hard, struggles to breathe for a moment as it hits her, hard. She sobers in an instant. The symmetry of it all is painful.

Everything from the past weeks is thrown into relief. None of it matters now. This is Emily. Her beautiful Emily. The girl who mothers them all and makes sure they’re all alright. Their moral compass. She knew things were bad, that they were spiralling far, far, beyond their control, but this is worse than she ever imagined. How could Emily have done this to herself? How could she possibly have felt so completely and utterly desperate? How did she not see this coming?

A myriad of other questions tumble out of her mouth before she realises, “She what? Why? What the fuck?!” her voice gives way at the end of the sentence and she feels hot tears prick at the back of her eyes. They roll down her cheeks when she blinks, and then she’s up on her feet again, clambering over the discarded cushions and looking for clothes.

 _“I don’t know. I don’t know…”_ Katie answers, trailing off into silence, sobbing again.

“Where are you?” she asks, reaching for the same jeans she just let go of, hopping around to put them on one handed

 _“Bristol Royal Infirmary. Mum and Dad are screaming at each other and there’s doctors and nurses rushing everywhere … Fuck. Naomi, just come. Quickly. She needs you …”_ and then, something she thought she’d never ever hear, _“I need you. I can’t do this on my own.”_

“OK, OK,” she lets out a long breath, raking a hand through her hair as she spins round, looking for a cardigan or a sweatshirt and some shoes. “I’ll be there, fast as I can, alright?”

Katie sniffs back tears. _“Alright, just get here in one piece, yeah?”_

She nods, stupidly, and then shakes her head, hanging up the phone and shoving it into her pocket as she reaches for her shoes, tying them hastily, and pulling on a sweatshirt that was draped over the back of the sofa. She runs to the kitchen to splash her face with cold water that takes her breath. Then, there’s a few moments where her brain just gives up trying to process everything, mind racing with thoughts as she looks on the fridge for taxi numbers, cursing the fact she doesn’t know anyone who can drive apart from Effy and Cook, and neither of them can help her now. One locked away in some godforsaken clinic, medicated to the point she doesn’t even know her own name, and the other is on the run, afraid of his own shadow. Then, she spots her mum’s car keys, glinting from underneath the cactus on the windowsill, like a gift from God. She snatches them up, grabbing a coat on the way out, fumbling with the lock and dropping the keys twice before she sets off.

It’s freezing outside, but she manages to get the car going after several tries to get the engine to turn over. Given that she’s only had six lessons, all during the day, never at night, given to her by Kieran in the summer holidays – a world away now, she thinks – she wishes he were here. She wishes anyone were here, so she didn’t have to go through this alone. That makes her remember Katie, and it’s enough impetus to make her stop driving like a granny, crawling down the road at a snail’s pace and checking the rearview mirror for the police every two seconds, and floor the fucking thing instead, as fast as it can go.

‘Ten and two. Ten and two,’ she keeps chanting in her head, hearing it in Kieran’s rough Irish lilt, half expecting him to be in the passenger seat when she glances left, readying herself to make her next turn. It truly hits her at entirely the wrong moment, when she’s waiting, wishing, for another set of red lights to go green, and catches sight of herself in the wing mirror; pale and bleary-eyed with her hair scraped back in a messy ponytail, wearing her old Army Surplus jacket. Emily’s perfume lingers on it, It’s a reminder of when things were good, and they were blissfully happy. So far from where they are now. She starts to cry, the ugly, loud kind of crying that no one ever admits to out loud, and it’s only the beeping of the horn from the car behind her that snaps her out of it. After that, she forces herself to stay focussed, to keep her promise to Katie. She grips the steering wheel to the point that her knuckles go white, and beeps the horn at everyone who has the misfortune to be in her way, and flinches every time she grinds the gears at every single change. She stalls the thing twice, and every time, it takes longer to start back up again. By some miracle, after twenty torturous minutes, she makes it. The relief is immense, because she had visions of herself ending up in some multi-car pile up, waking up to find she’s in the next bed to Emily’s. She feels terrible when she scratches the door of the car in the next parking space and breaks off its wing mirror, during her attempts to park, but she’s got no time for notes of apology, and she’s so flustered that she almost leaves the keys in the ignition.

***

She lied through her back teeth and told the nurse on the desk that she was Emily’s cousin, mindful of the fact that telling someone that she was ‘sort of her girlfriend’ would get her nothing in the way of information and everything like a frogmarch from the building, lead away by some dickhead in a jumper with elbow patches who carries a walkie-talkie. Her chest and legs are burning from running up four flights of stairs after learning that Emily had just been transferred from the A and E department to a ward for observation. Wards were good, observation was good, it meant that Emily was OK, and whoever found her – she hopes, genuinely, that it wasn’t Katie, James or her parents, because no one deserves to see that – arrived at the right time. Her happiness was fleeting, hope dashed when she tried to lean over the desk to see Emily’s notes on the computer screen, but the nurse turned the monitor away, brusquely explaining that Emily was still very ill, in a ‘critical condition.’

She stands by the railings, catching her breath before she goes through the double doors to the next corridor, unsettled by the distant sound of bleeping machines, and the flashes of blue scrubs as nurses and doctors rush toward them. She stands stock still, and prays, really prays for the first time in her life, to keep Emily safe and if that can’t be done, to help her hang on just a little longer. Pursing her lips closed and fighting back tears, she pushes forward, growing evermore uneasy with each step.

When she turns the corner, she hears familiar voices, and sees Rob and Jenna not too far away, standing outside a room she assumes is Emily’s. They’re facing off against each other, inches apart, yelling, despite the protests of a nurse that doesn’t look much older than her for them to tone things down. It’s ugly, and she only catches the odd word, but none of them are kind. They’re each blaming the other for what’s happened, batting the blame back and forth, but, unsurprisingly, they’re blaming her too. Katie sits a few feet away, huddled on a blue plastic chair. James, quietly sitting a few seats away, chipping the edge off polystyrene cup, the remnants piling up on the floor. She’s never seen either of them look so completely broken. When Katie glances up and they look at each other, she sees that her eyes are red from crying; her usually immaculate make-up ruined.

“Naomi!” Katie says, disbelieving, as if she’s a mirage.

At the announcement, Jenna turns on her heels to face her.

She goes cold.

“What’s _she_ doing here?” Jenna screeches, pointing in her direction.

She steps forward warily, “Jenna, look, please, I only want to make sure that Emily’s OK.”

“You want to make sure that Emily’s OK?!” she spits out, incredulous. “This is your bloody fault!” she marches up, closing the distance between them.

“She took God knows how many of God knows what, and you want to know if she’s OK? No, _sweetheart_ she’s about as far from OK as you can get! She nearly died!”

She steps back instinctively, a hand clasped to her mouth as she tries to take in what Jenna’s said.

“Jen, Jesus Christ, will you just leave it?!” Rob pleads, coming up and stepping in between them.

“No, I won’t bloody _leave it_ Rob, that’s how she got in this … this _mess_ ," Jenna takes a breath, voice trembling, and she pushes him square in the chest. “Get away from me, Now!”

“Mum, just stop, please. It’s got nothing to do with her!” Katie comes across, and to her surprise, stands with her.

It tips Jenna over the edge. “You told her?!”

“Well, someone needed to,” Rob cuts in, exasperated.

Jenna laughs bitterly. "I give up. I do!” she declares, throwing her hands up and turning away from them. "Oh I forgot, this is a meeting of the Saint Naomi Club!”

“I should just go. I’m sorry …” she says, quietly, not daring to look any of them in the face.

Jenna turns back, smiling. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said. If only you actually did that, and followed my advice months ago, Emily wouldn’t be in this mess. You’ve broken her heart, just like I knew you always would!”

She’s been waiting for that one for months, and yet, it still throws her, makes her want to run in the opposite direction. Secretly, she’s always wondered if Emily would be better off without her, and she hates that everything she’s done since they met that first time has only proven Jenna right.

“Emily took the pills, Mum.”

“Well _she_ might as well have poured them down Emily’s throat!” Jenna replies, venomously, pointing for good measure.

“That’s rich, love. Have you forgotten about all the times you’ve been on her back, Hmm? You’re not blameless. None of us are!” with that, Rob walks away, head shaking, and as soon as he thinks they can’t see him anymore, he starts to cry, shoulders shaking with every sob.

She glances over at Katie, and she looks torn between going to her dad and staying to help her instead.

Jenna doesn’t even seem to register what he’s just said. “I want you gone. Now. She _won’t_ be living with you when she’s better. She won’t be seeing _you_ ever again. Clear?”

She steels herself, resisting the urge to let fly and tell her what a controlling, cold, and manipulative bitch she really is. She doesn’t love Emily, or Katie, or James, she just suffocates them, forces them to be things they aren’t.

Before she can open her mouth to speak, Katie comes to her defence, “Emily would want her here, and I know you hate that she’s gay, Mum, but it’s not going to change!" Katie yells, and Jenna’s speechless, mouth agape. “They love each other, properly, and it took me too long to see it, and I let you treat her and Naomi like crap. I thought you were right to try and keep them apart. I actually believed your shit!”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to me like that!”

“No Mum, I’ve had enough! We’ve _all_ had enough! I’m taking Naomi in there to see her and I don’t care what you think!” she pauses for breath, practically in tears. This outburst has been seventeen years in the making. “If you want to blame someone for what’s happened tonight then blame your fucking self!”

With that, Katie takes her head and leads her off down the corridor, past Rob, stood shell-shocked. A look passes between the three of them, and part of her, a very small part, feels like she’s been forgiven. They’ve finally accepted her, at the very moment when Emily’s attempted to push her, and everyone else, away for good.

When she glances back down the corridor, Jenna is gone.

***

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, quietly, as they wait for the nurse to come out.

“I didn’t do it for you. Don’t get any ideas. I did it because she needs you, and for some reason, even after everything you’ve put her through, she still fucking loves you.”

She shakes her head. “No she doesn’t.”

“Yes she fucking does,” Katie replies, indignant, with no room for argument. “Just, sort it out yeah? Talk to each other. Stop all this shit with the drinking and the weed and just be there for her instead of getting off your face. Nothing will change if you don’t _do_ anything.”

She nods, because she can’t really argue with the logic, but Katie’s only seen snatches of what they’re like now. There’s a dividing line in their relationship, before Sophia, and after Sophia, and she can’t imagine them getting back to those days where everything was perfect and they lived in each other’s pockets. When they bought each other presents for no reason, and rode out to the lake for silly little picnics, spending hours sat there reading Emily Shakespeare’s sonnets with Emily’s head in her lap.

The nurse moves away, and she gets her first glimpse of Emily. She steps away from the door immediately, unsteady on her feet. Emily looks so tiny in the bed, hooked up to a drip, with an oxygen mask on her face. Everything about her is pale, and she’s pale, bleached out by the hospital gown and the crisp-looking white sheets. Her red is the only thing – apart from the powder blue blankets – that stands out, vivid and bright, fanned out against her pillow. She doesn’t look ill at all, but rather strangely at peace, tucked up in the blankets, sleeping soundly.

Katie shatters the image.

“She was at that Mandy’s house. Party or something.”

“W-Who?” she stutters.

“That slaggy Indian girl, in mine and Emily’s History class. You know, she’s always chatting up girls. She’s been all over Emily for ages,” Katie begins, voice thick with disdain. “You’d know that if you actually came to college sober once in a while,” she adds, with a slight tinge of sarcasm. “Dad’s a doctor, had a load of painkillers in his bag …”

She tears her eyes away from Emily, concerned when Katie stops talking, but all-aware of what she’ll say next if she can bring herself to. It feels awkward, when she reaches out to touch Katie’s shoulder and reassure her, and she expects her to shirk it dramatically and fly off the handle, but there’s nothing like that. Instead, Katie looks up at her, eyes brimming with tears, a brief, weak, smile masking her obvious surprise.

“She took them, didn’t she?”

Katie nods solemnly. “With a shitload of vodka. Mandy found her in the bathroom on the floor, unconscious … They had to pump her stomach when she came in. She’s been drifting in and out ever since. I only left her to come and phone you, and then Mum turned up and it all kicked off.”

Lurid images of what Katie’s describing flashes up in her mind, and she wishes it away, pushing it to the back of her mind. It’ll come back to her, she knows. This day will haunt her.

“Jesus,” she lets out an uneven breath, and looks toward Emily again as the nurse writes something on her chart.

“I think … ” Katie pauses, fighting against her tears. “I think she meant it, Naomi.”

She can’t stop the tears that come then, and she breaks down entirely, struggling to stay upright. Then, she feels Katie’s arms around her, pulling her close. She resists it first, but gives in eventually, and it’s ridiculous, because she should be the one doing the comforting.

“She’ll be fine. She’s strong.” Katie whispers, squeezing once more before letting go.

“I know,” she nods, when she steps back, trying to compose herself.

“If you’d like to go in now, you can,” the nurse says gently when she emerges, carrying an empty drip bag in her hand.

She and Katie exchange looks, and now she can go in, she’s not sure she wants to. The second Emily opens her eyes, she could send her packing, and they’ll be in exactly the same place whenever she gets to come home. They can’t carry on like they are. She hasn’t got the strength for it, and after tonight, she knows that Emily hasn’t either. Her decision is made for her when Katie pushes her between the shoulders, urging her forward, nodding when she glances back for reassurance. She owes her for this, and she can’t quite marry the Katie she’s seen tonight, and the one that’s made her life hell for so many years. People change, Gobblers End changed her, they all know that, but the kindness she’s shown her now is proof that it can really last. Maybe she and Emily aren’t so different after all.

***

As she crosses the room quietly, careful not to wake Emily, she ends up standing awkwardly at the side of the bed. Her immediate thought is to take Emily’s hand, or kiss her cheek, but she stops herself from doing either, because that’s too presumptive. That’s what real, loyal, loving girlfriends do, and she hasn’t been anything like that to her for a long time, if at all. She’s never felt so useless in her life.

Overwhelmed, she steps back, shrugs off her coat, suddenly aware of how warm it is, sits down in the comfy blue chair next to Emily’s bed, and waits, determined to sit here for as long as it takes for Emily to come round. Now she’s closer, she can see things she couldn’t before, like the neon coloured sticky pads peeking out from her hospital gown – the kind she’s seen on the telly when they use defibrillators to restart people’s hearts; the remnants of the charcoal around her mouth they use to absorb all the drugs. She blinks back tears, biting on her lip, fighting not to make any noise. She’s ruined her. She’s ruined her beautiful, brave girl, and if she did dare to reach out and touch her, she’s terrified of hurting her, because she looks so delicate and fragile, so very different from the girl she’s used to seeing.

***

She’s not sure how long she’s been there, pacing back and forth, between the chair and the window, but the view she looks out upon is different, the sky having changed from near darkness to that strange orangey pink that signals night has begun to give way to day. There’s been a constant flow of people and noise. Katie and Rob, bringing tea and coffee or a sandwich, and they’ve sat in comfortable silence, supporting each other. Nurses changing the drip bags and writing notes with kind words and sympathetic faces. Trolleys wheeling past at speed, alarms and bleeps going off that set her nerves on edge, because they interrupt the steady rhythm of the machines inside Emily’s room. She’s become used to them already, and it’s sort of lulling, especially when she remembers that their speed is unique, that it’s Emily’s heart beating away and not someone else’s.

At first, she thinks it’s her sleep deprived mind playing tricks on her when she hears this croaky yet mouse-like noise that vaguely sounds like her name when she’s gazing out of the window, holding a cup of coffee that’s long since gone cold. Then, the noise happens again, slightly louder, and she turns to see Emily looking at her, fighting to get her oxygen mask off.

She rushes to her, putting the cup down on the cupboard beside the bed, stopping short, not wanting to get too close in case Emily’s not comfortable. She prepares for the worst, imagining Emily screaming at her to get out and leave her alone, she’d be within her rights to do so. The first thing she wants to do is slap her and ask her why she did something so fucking stupid. The second thing she wants to do is kiss her and tell her she’s sorry, again, while she holds her as close as humanly possible. She doesn’t do either, just stands, mute, staring at her, with no idea of what to do, growing more anxious as the seconds pass.

“You’re here,” Emily says, flinching, visibly in pain as she tries to speak. It suddenly dawns on her that Emily might’ve done this on purpose, and for a moment, she can’t breathe, and it feels like her heart’s stopped beating altogether. Emily takes a breath, and there’s a horrible rasp that comes with it. It hurts her too, hard, deep in her chest. “What the fuck happened?” she asks, finally getting the mask off.

She comes closer to the bed and cautiously reaches over, putting the mask back in place. “No, leave that on, you need it.” Emily’s hand curls around her wrist and she steps back, pulling free of it, surprised by her tenderness. It’s too much. She turns away from her, and pulls the other chair to the bed, taking Emily’s hand in both of hers. They’re cold. “You took some pills, she begins, as delicately as she can, and watches Emily’s face change as she remembers.

Her heart breaks all over again.

“I, had a headache …”

She knows that Emily’s lying, at least partly, because she can’t look at her when she says it.

“Ems. You don’t take a bloody bottle of pills with vodka for a headache,” she comments, sadly, gently stroking the back of Emily’s hand with her thumb.

“I just wanted it to stop. I didn’t mean to. It felt like … I could fix things. I was tired of hurting … missing you … us.” Emily starts to cry then, and she springs up, leaning over the bed to hold her, immediately regretting it.

“Oh God, please don’t. Please, babe,” she pleads, cursing herself for letting the ‘babe’ slip out. She hasn’t called her that for months.

Emily pulls her closer, clinging tighter than she ever has. “I’m sorry,” it’s a quiet sound, half lost in the sweatshirt material she hangs on to.

She lets go of her, reluctantly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s me. I’m sorry, so fucking sorry that I drove you to this because of what I did,” she gulps in air, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. “Just please, promise me, that you’ll never _ever_ do anything like that again? You scared the shit out of me and your family. I can’t lose you, Ems … I can’t.”

“I fucked up too.”

“No,” she shakes her head vehemently.

She won’t have this. Emily’s forever trying to reason and take the blame for things on her behalf or blame herself full-stop. Not anymore. It ends today. Emily tries to sit up to reach her, but she’s too weak, and it’s proof enough that the conversation is too big to be having now. She’s not sure that they’ll ever reconcile it fully. She’ll always blame herself for this, no matter how many times Emily says it’s not her fault.

“Stay there, lie down. You need to rest,” she helps her to lie back down and pulls up her blankets so she doesn’t get cold.

“OK,” Emily concedes, with a soft sigh, clearly tired.

She doesn’t want to leave now, but she feels she should. It’s her turn to be responsible.

“I should get going now. Leave you. I’ll find your dad, or do you want Katie?”

As she turns away from the bed, Emily’s hand reaches out again and catches her wrist just like before.

“Will you stay?”

Her heart leaps into her throat and she tries not to think about what it might mean.

“Just me?”

“Just you … Please?”

How could she possibly say no? She nods, and heads back to the chair again, pulling it as close as she can to the bed. Emily fights against her obvious tiredness and when her eyes snap open for what seems like the umpteenth time, she has to say something.

“Go to sleep. I won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

She can’t help but think of their election planning and the lake then, remembering how fearful Emily’s always been of being abandoned. It’s a fear they share, but she doesn’t know that, not yet. It’s one of the hundreds of things they need to talk about when she’s better. It won’t be easy, to lay herself open to Emily like that, but she’s got no other option, not if she wants to stay with her. Bottling everything up got them both in this state.

“I can’t … not without you.”

Suddenly, the drinking makes sense and she feels terrible for not making the connection sooner, but in truth, this is the first time in months that her system is anything near free of alcohol or drugs. She remembers a disastrous Fitch family barbeque that Jenna had grudgingly allowed her to attend, but neglected to tell her that the entire Scottish arm of Emily’s family was coming. She felt awkward and out of place, even with Emily at her side, holding her hand, eyes full of reassuring glances and warmth whenever she needed it. Rob seemed to sense it, and sought her out, while she was having a sly cigarette and debating making a break for it. He told her a story about when Emily and Katie were tiny babies, how they’d have to put Katie in the same cot with Emily else she’d cry for hours and never sleep. Besides Emily being there for her, like always, him sharing that with her was the kindest thing to happen all day. She’d never considered it before then, but Emily always ended up in her arms when they slept in the same bed. They just fell into the position, naturally, without realising.

Now, the idea of such an intimate act, after so long without such things, feels anything but natural, as if she’s being tested.

“Do you want me to … lie with you?” she sighs, irritated, because it doesn’t sound right at all. “I mean, just … fucking hell, I don’t know what I mean!” she rolls her eyes skyward. It sounded much better in her head.

Although she’s made a massive idiot of herself, as per usual, she doesn’t mind, because it makes Emily laugh, and as soon as it happens, she realises how much she’s missed it.

“Yes,” Emily says, coughing as her breath catches. “I do.”

She kicks off her shoes out of politeness, and carefully climbs on to the bed, lying on her side, mirroring Emily’s position. She doesn’t want to push her luck, not when things are sort of OK between them, so fully intending to leave as much respectable distance between them, but then Emily pulls her closer, threading their fingers together. She closes her eyes, just for a moment, revelling the fact she can actually hold her, because it’s been so long since she’s been this close to her. She’d rather it was in their bed back at the flat rather than a hospital one, but she’s thankful all the same.

Cautiously, she dips her head to Emily’s ear, whispering, “Better?”

“Better,” Emily echoes, sleepily, turning toward her so she’s facing her.

It’s an achingly familiar position, and she’s spent countless nights like with her arms wrapped around Emily when she’s curled into her side, using her as a pillow. She takes it as a good sign. It doesn’t take long for Emily to fall asleep after that, and even though her eyes are starting to feel heavy she doesn’t give in to it. Instead, she forces herself to stay awake, stroking Emily’s hair every so often, because she knows it soothes her. Even if this peace doesn’t last, and it turns out they just can’t work, no matter how hard they try or how much they love each other, she got her back for these quiet minutes, and no one can take that away from her.


End file.
